


Can't Find the Bloody Remote

by BlasphemousProphet



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angst, Gen, M/M, Nouis, Romantic if you squint, handles jay's death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-30
Updated: 2017-06-30
Packaged: 2018-11-21 13:40:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11358645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlasphemousProphet/pseuds/BlasphemousProphet
Summary: Niall flies out to see Louis in the midst of a tough time. Canon compliant (ish).





	Can't Find the Bloody Remote

When the phone call connects, Niall doesn’t quite jump up in excitement, but it's close. He stands up, body stiff with nerves.

“Ello?” says a tired, gruff voice.

Louis doesn’t usually pick up the phone these days. He’s gotten in the habit of letting it ring endlessly and then texting _what’s going on Ni ?_  as if he didn’t just willfully ignore the call. And Niall, gets it, he does, Louis is overwhelmed and exhausted and still staving off all kinds of grief filled emotions, but he wishes Louis would just pick up the damn phone sometimes.

And now he has.

“Niall?” says Louis again. “You there?”

“Right, yeah,” says Niall. “How are ya?”

“Fine,” says Louis immediately, and Niall hates himself for lapsing into the same kind of boring, perfunctory small talk Louis hates.

“Good,” says Niall. “Listen-“

Niall can hear Louis sucking in a breath on the other end of the line.

“Nothing bad,” Niall rushes to say.

“I know that,” says Louis peevishly.

“Just – I read your article in The Observer-“

Niall pauses. “It’s nothing you didn’t already know, Nialler,” says Louis.

In the early days of the band, it had been Louis and Niall, perpetually underestimated, occasionally rolling their eyes at one another behind Harry and Liam and Zayn’s backs. Everything had changed since then, but in a way nothing had, and time would always be frozen with Niall at sixteen and Louis at eighteen.

What was that pretentious philosophical bullshit Harry liked to spout about fame? Or was it George Clooney who said your mental age freezes when you become famous, that the time when you become the most known to the world is also the time when you stopped maturing forever?

Niall had tried hard to fight that, and so had Louis, but in a way it was the fulfillment of all of Louis’ Peter Pan fantasies, the idea of time standing still, and in a way it was also his worst nightmare, for time to freeze for him when he was at his most insecure, his most vulnerable, his most in need of his mum.

“It isn’t true,” says Niall.

“Alright,” says Louis. He’s gotten agreeable these days, when Niall can even get him on the phone, when their relationship isn’t just liking each other’s Instagram pics and trying to keep the email chain alive. He just agrees with whatever Niall or Liam says, blankly and simply, because the band is important to him and they can’t risk another fight. Not after Zayn and not after Harry.

Louis thinks Niall is family (he’s right) and that he can’t risk fighting with family (he’s wrong.) Niall misses the old Louis, the one that would fight to the death over a bag of cheese curls, so sure everything was permanent and safe. Niall supposes losing one’s mum and watching one’s bandmates soar up the charts will do that to a person.

“Can I come visit?” says Niall.

Louis hesitates. “I’m not feeling very fun,” he says. “Not up to a lot of big nights.”

“I don’t care,” says Niall.

“House is a bloody mess,” says Louis.

“So’s mine,” says Niall, even though that’s a filthy lie.

“I’m not…” Louis starts, trails off. “Aren’t you busy?”

“Nope,” says Niall cheerfully. “Taking a light break before we begin recording again.”

“Good for you, Nialler,” says Louis vaguely. “And you want to spend that break with me?”

“Yes,” says Niall. He’s balancing his computer on his lap, finding a ticket from Ireland to LA, pressing purchase, confirming the purchase, closing the computer.

“You’re always welcome,” says Louis, now sounding a bit harried.

“Stop,” says Niall. “You don’t have to prepare for me at all. Let me just-“

Let me take care of you, he thinks.

“Niall,” says Louis, sounding overwhelmed.

“I emailed you my flight details,” says Niall.

“Alright,” says Louis.

“You’re important to One Direction. You’re always important,” Niall adds, unable to help himself.

Louis sighs through the phone. “Thanks, Ni.”

“See you tomorrow,” says Niall. Louis hangs up first, leaving before he can be abandoned. Niall goes to pack.

\--

Niall texts Harry that he’s going to see Louis. Niall’s the only one in the band that still talks to Harry anymore. Harry’s competitive, always has been, aligning himself with the right people under the right stars, and he’s happy for Liam and Niall and Louis, of course he is, but part of Harry is surprised and displeased that he’s not the Justin Timberlake, that everything isn’t as easy as he expected, that who the Justin Timberlake is hasn’t been decided yet.

Oh, Harry texts back and then Niall’s phone lights up with Harry’s face calling him.

“You read the article?” says Harry. It’s hard to tell what he’s thinking.

“Yeah,” says Niall. “Have you spoken to him?”

“…no,” says Harry. “There’s just a lot going on, on my end.”

Niall nods.

“Tell him I wish him my best,” says Harry, sounding clipped and formal.

“Tell him yourself,” says Niall.

“Just pass that on,” Harry insists.

“He’ll mock you senselessly for that one.”

Harry’s face lapses into the usual motions when talking about Louis; a split second of fondness followed by a grimace of pain. “Don’t pass that on then,” says Harry.

“You should text him,” says Niall. “He’s going to remember this, in the future, how you weren’t there for him. I know you two have a complicated history but you don’t want him to think that-“

“I know,” says Harry.

Harry won’t text. Niall knows him too well. Niall has no idea what really happened between Harry and Louis but he knows that Harry won’t text and Louis will always remember that.

“Alright,” says Niall.

“Alright,” says Harry, and neither one of them wants to be the first to hang up.

\--

The ratio of Liam’s texts to Louis’ responses has been dwindling, but Liam is still there worried about him. Niall knows this. But busy, everyone is busy, busy, busy.

\--

Niall gets to Louis’ LA house at 3 PM on Sunday. The buzzer lets him in. He drops his bags on the threshold. “Louis!” he shouts.

The house is enormous and his voice reverberates. Niall has to search three bedrooms before he finds Louis. There are blackout curtains clinging to the windows. The room reeks of pot and cigarettes and stale fast food. There, in the bed, shivering in a thin vest and sweatpants, is Louis, face pressed into the pillow.

The only sign he’s alive is the twitching of his arms, as though primed to reach for another cigarette, primed to reach for something.

“Lou,” says Niall softly. Louis turns over to face him.

“You came,” says Louis, voice all ravaged from the cigarettes.

“Are you drunk?” says Niall.

“No,” says Louis slowly. “Just took some Xanax.”

At the look on Niall’s face, Louis adds, “all above board, prescribed.”

Niall takes off his sneakers.

“It’s bloody freezing in here,” says Louis. “Don’t know how to turn the AC down. Still haven’t figured it out.”

“There should be a remote,” says Niall.

“Lost it,” says Louis.

“Where was the last place you saw it?” says Niall.

Louis shakes his head and his face starts to crumple. “Don’t go looking,” he says. “Just-“ he pats the bed next to him. “Couldn’t you use a cuddle?”

Niall lies down next to Louis and stares at the ceiling. “You’re not okay,” he says. “I wish you would tell me when you’re not okay.”

“I wish you wouldn’t waste your vacation on me,” says Louis, and then he’s sniffling and Niall is scooping Louis up into his arms and holding him, shivering and shaking, and Niall is relieved when Louis finally starts to cry.

“I love you,” says Niall. “I’d waste every vacation on you.”

“You’re so busy,” Louis sobs. “Everyone is busy.”

“No,” says Niall, snaking a hand up the back of Louis’ shirt and running it up and down his back, the way Louis always liked. “No no no, Lou, never too busy for you.”

“It’s so fucking cold here,” Louis whispers into Niall’s neck.

Niall pulls the heaviest blanket on the bed over them and slips off Louis’ shirt, followed by his own, as if they’re teenagers again, cuddling on the tourbus.

“I’ll fix it,” says Niall. “I’ll find the remote.”

Louis’ grip tightens around Niall. “Not right now,” says Niall quickly. “Later.”

“I miss her so much,” says Louis. “Everyday I want to call and tell her something and there’s no – there’s nothing.”

Niall smoothes his hands down Louis’ arms, his back, his stomach, trying to distract him.

“She must be so lonely,” says Louis, “all by herself, underground.”

The sobs that come out of Louis next wrack through his body, sending him into spasms of shivers again.

“I’m sorry,” says Niall. “I’m so, so sorry.”

When Louis finally falls asleep, Niall can’t. He lies awake, staring at the ceiling. He searches the house for the remote. He goes through Louis’ phone to find his real estate agent’s phone number to ask her about the remote. Niall finds that there are ten outgoing calls from Louis to his mom from the past few days. Niall puts the phone down and goes to the linen closet for more blankets instead. He piles blankets on top of Louis, hoping to stop the cold, has a wee, and goes back to bed with Louis.

Things will seem better in the morning. Niall’s always believed that.

\--

The next morning Louis wakes up sweating under the weight of the blankets, clearly embarrassed. Niall opens his eyes to find Louis watching him, fidgeting again.

“Sorry about last night,” says Louis. “I was high, I know I wasn’t a lot of fun…”

“I wanted to be here,” says Niall. “You need to call me when you need me.”

Louis looks away, playing with the coverlet and Niall grabs his arms and makes him stay still.

“Promise me,” says Niall.

“Okay,” says Louis, and they both know it’s a promise he’s going to break.

I have to visit more often, thinks Niall.

“How are you feeling today?” says Niall.

“Better,” says Louis, holding on to Niall’s arms for dear life. “Much better,” and Niall has no idea if Louis is telling the truth or not. He’ll just have to stay and find out.


End file.
